


Paradigm Shift

by quartzguts



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Kingdom Hearts III Spoilers, M/M, Paopu Fruit (Kingdom Hearts), Power Dynamics, Sickfic, Teacher-Student Relationship, for like 2 seconds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 10:50:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18548290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quartzguts/pseuds/quartzguts
Summary: Across time and space, Luxu remembers.





	Paradigm Shift

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for descriptions of injury/violence and gross sick stuff (vomit, basically).

The end comes and it's like a punch to the throat. His trachea crushed, his breath gone - his vision is blurry and he can't see anything clearly anymore. His body is failing, but his heart is still gushing with life and Luxu, he -

 

He sets it free.

 

-

 

“Master!”

 

Luxu calls out to him again and again even though he knows the Master is ignoring him. It doesn’t mean anything; he’s just doing it to be difficult. Being ignored by the most important person in his world is near unbearable, though.

 

Eventually the Master must get tired of his yelling, because he shifts so that he can see Luxu through the tree branches. He’s perched in a place where the trunk splits, and it’s just high enough off the ground that Luxu’s heart lurches when the Master wobbles a bit.

 

“Yeah?” he calls down. His voice is melodious, like the birds that roost in the higher branches.

 

“It’s time for work,” Luxu says. The Master replies with a sort of hum, but doesn’t jump down. Luxu sighs; he knows what the Master is waiting for him to do. He always knows what the Master wants him to do. Well, maybe not always. Most of the time, at least.

 

He climbs up slowly, taking care not to let his cloak catch on any twigs. The branches are strong, easily holding his weight as he moves through them. This tree has been growing at the edge of Daybreak Town for a long, long time. The Master once mentioned, to Luxu’s horror, that he’d like to cut it open and count the rings. See how many years it’s lived.

 

Luxu heard a fairy tale once where the heroine drank the sap of a tree and inherited all of its lifetimes. She’d lived on, eternally youthful, while her lover grew old and faded away, leaving her all alone. He wonders, if he and the Master drank the sap together, if they could avoid that fate and create a new destiny. One for just the two of them.

 

It would never work, but it’s a nice thought.

 

He reaches the Master after a few short minutes of careful climbing. There isn’t any place in the crook of the trunk for him to sit, so the Master pulls him into his lap. Luxu finds a comfortable position easily; he’s sitting in between the Master’s crossed legs, leaning into the arm holding his back. His own hands stay folded in his lap. His legs dangle over the side of one of the Master’s, hanging free in the air. He’d fall if the Master let him.

 

He won’t let him. Luxu turns to look at him.

 

The Master refuses to meet his gaze, which is normal. He likes showing Luxu with all sorts of affection - gently caressing his cheek, holding his hand, kissing his forehead. But he never really looks at Luxu while he does it. It’s almost like he’s afraid of something. Luxu is tempted to say that the Master doesn’t even know what fear is, but he knows better. The Master, underneath all his affectations and intelligence, is just a man, the same as him. Maybe he’s lived a few more years than Luxu’s twenty, maybe he’s written a few more papers than Luxu’s ten, but his heart feels the same things at the same times in the same ways. They’re in sync, except when they’re not. He likes that they have their off days, though. He loves the Master’s mercurial side. Loves his contradictions. Loves his heart and soul and everything in between.

 

Luxu leans against the Master’s chest. He wants to unzip his coat and skin and even his bones, wants to pry apart his ribcage, crawl inside and never come out. He wants to hide from what’s to come.

 

“Are we abandoning our work for today, then?” He asks, only because his thoughts are getting too heavy and he needs something to distract him.

 

“Nah,” the Master says, “unfortunately we can’t. Too much to do. Gotta finish up those spirits, and there’s a few pages of the Book I’d like to rewrite - of course, you’ll need to be in bed by then, can’t have you seeing any of that….”

 

Luxu drifts off while the Master rambles. He usually hates heights, but he’s found that they’re not so bad when the Master’s next to him. Every fear he’s ever had melts away at the Master’s touch. He knows that while the Master is by his side, nothing can hurt him.

 

He also knows it’s stupid to rely on that security. The Master will leave soon. In a few months maybe, or a few weeks. Luxu can’t be sure of his timetable, especially since he keeps changing it. Sure, Luxu will be the first to vanish, but he knows the loneliness and despair won’t set in until the Master goes, too.

 

Still, he has this moment. And maybe a few more, if fate is kind to him. So he lets himself fall asleep in the Master’s arms, content to know he won’t fall.

 

-

 

His heart comes to roost somewhere else. It's a struggle, forcing down the other heart that occupies his new body, but Luxu's is much stronger and he eventually wins his place beneath his ribcage. His heart is thundering - beating fast fast fast - but he’s not sure who it’s beating _for_ , exactly. His Master is nowhere to be found, won't be anywhere in this life or the next, probably. It'll be hundreds, maybe thousands of lifetimes before he returns.

 

His heart will have to keep beating for a memory until then.

 

-

 

“Luxu, are you even listening?”

 

He hadn’t been, but he is now. Luxu can feel his cheeks burning with embarrassment, and he knows the Master can see the blush beneath his hood, but he resolves not to back down.

 

“Come on, I know it’s boring, but you have to give it a little bit of effort!” The Master jabs at the formula on the textbook page he has open in front of them. “See, this here is for….”

 

Luxu’s mind wanders off again. He knows he’s acting like a petulant child, but he’s sick of studying. They’ve been doing it all day, going over literature and art and science and now mathematics. Luxu is tired of it. He’d rather they go back to the arts, since those are his favorite subjects, but he knows the Master won’t allow that. There are days when he’s lax and lets Luxu decide what they go over and when, and there are days when he’s strict and refuses to depart from their rigid schedule. Today is the second type. The only way Luxu can bear it is by daydreaming.

 

The Master notices he’s stopped listening again and slaps a hand to his face. “Luxu!” he groans, and Luxu takes a little thrill at hearing the Master speak his name with that much emotion, even if it’s only out of frustration.

 

“Yes, Master?” he asks demurely.

 

“Fine. You win. Whaddya want?” the Master says, and Luxu’s up in an instant. He throws his arms around the Master’s waist, and it’s a little bit of a weird position because of how tall the Master is but what’s life without a little variety? The Master sighs, and this is one of those times when Luxu can’t read him.

 

“Kiss me,” Luxu demands.

 

“You really are a troublesome student,” the Master says. He makes no move to give into Luxu’s demands. “What if the others walk in? The door’s wide open.”

 

“I don’t care, and neither do you.” That earns him a raised eyebrow, mostly because they both know it’s a lie. Luxu doesn’t care, but the Master does - it’s not hard to imagine how the others would react to seeing their Master and fellow apprentice kissing during what’s supposed to be an academic lesson. Or is it? Would they simply see it as a break of decorum? Would they be angry, betrayed - or, and wouldn’t this be interesting - jealous? They’re already jealous of Luxu’s position as their Master’s _favorite_. Finding out he’s the favorite in other things as well could be distressing for them. And the Master needs them to be loyal. He can't risk having them doubt him.

 

Luxu doesn’t relent, though. The Master could easily maneuver out of his embrace, but he doesn’t. So they stand there for a few minutes, just looking at each other.

 

And that isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Luxu can just barely make out the Master’s features under his hood. Even that much is beautiful, especially those blue eyes: vibrant pale blue tinged with bits of green around the pupils. Two little pieces of sky, just for him.

 

“What exactly do you hope to accomplish with this?”

 

“I’m not sure. But we don’t have a lot of time left.”

 

“True.”

 

“And I want to spend at least some of the time we _do_ have together.”

 

“Fascinating.”

 

“Master.”

 

“Yes?”

 

Luxu leans in and kisses him. He doesn’t kiss back, but then he never returns any of the affections Luxu gives to him; Luxu thinks he’s afraid again, of what might happen if they go too far. He used to think the Master was afraid of breaking him, but he’s started to realize it might be the other way around. The Master’s heart is diamond. It’s unbreakable and unbendable, perfectly structured. If Luxu can weave his way into that heart, if he can nudge it even just a little bit, it might all come crashing down. All of the Master’s planning will be for nothing. All of his defenses will fall. The Master is afraid of that possibility, so he makes sure that he’s always in control.

 

Luxu knows this. He also knows that he could wrest control away from the Master whenever he wants to. The Master knows this, too.

 

So, Luxu could get the Master to kiss back. It would take a little pushing, a little pulling, but it’s possible. He could get what he wants.

 

But what he wants isn’t what he wants, exactly. What he wants is everything the Master is, and that includes the both man he becomes when he’s alone and the airs he puts on when he has company. Luxu sees that persona all the time, but he’s only caught glimpses of the man. He could see him right now, if he manages to bend the Master’s unbendable heart. But doing that would, on some fundamental level, make the “Master” disappear. Luxu is as much in love with the persona as he is with the man, so he can’t find it in his heart to do it.

 

Luxu is in love, at least in part, with a fairy tale. He knows this. The Master knows this, too.

 

He tries not to let it bother him, and fails.

 

-

 

The Dark Master has arrived and he's just a kid - maybe a few hundred years ago Luxu would feel bad about ruining his life but now, now he's grown too detached from everything to really care about some poor downtrodden child. When he sees Xehanort look at Eraqus softly, though, his heart cracks a little bit and he's reminded of the last time _he_ gazed at someone that way. With love.

 

He works swiftly to dig a ditch - a well - a canyon between the two of them. Works behind the scenes to set up the events that will drive them apart. Otherwise Eraqus's light might just be enough to poison Xehanort's darkness. Then he'd have to wait for another Dark Master to arrive. And he's done enough waiting.

 

-

 

"Master, please lie down for a few minutes."

 

The Master of Masters is sick. It’s unusual, but it does happen every once in a while. The Master works so, so hard, and he neglects his health often by refusing to sleep or eat proper meals. It worries Luxu to no end, but what’s worse is that when he does get sick the Master never sits still, even when he’s on the verge of throwing up. Right now he’s running around the lab, carrying his vomit bucket for when he needs to spit up bile. He can’t even keep water down, and Luxu can see the sweat trailing down his face, but he refuses to just take off his hot leather cloak and _sit_.

 

When the Master slows down to lean against a table, breathing heavy, Luxu takes advantage and kicks him in the back of the knee. It’s a dirty move, and the Master falls so suddenly he’s choking down vomit.

 

“Luxu,” he hacks while hurriedly turning over to cough into his bucket. “What was that for? Ugh, that was so gross!”

 

“What’s gross right now is you, Master,” Luxu says calmly, grabbing him off the floor. The shock of losing his balance and throwing up in his mouth has left the Master shaky, and he doesn’t have the strength to resist as Luxu drags him out of the lab.

 

“This is awfully willful behavior, coming from you,” the Master grumbles, wiping at his mouth with his gloved hand. The glove has gotten covered in spit and vomit, and Luxu will probably need to throw it out later.

 

“Since you refuse to mind your own health, I’m forced to intervene,” Luxu says. “You have no one to blame for this but yourself.”

 

The Master mutters something under his breath, but Luxu is too focused on getting him back to his room to listen or care. When they reach the Master’s bedroom, he’s recovered enough strength to push Luxu away and stumble to his bed on his own. Luxu turns on the light, but quickly flicks it off again when the Master groans in discomfort. He decides to light a few candles on the desk, illuminating the room enough for them to see but not enough to give the Master a headache.

 

The Master is quiet as Luxu undresses him. He takes the cloak off first, then the boots and gloves, then his own gloves since they’re now thoroughly gross. After a moment of hesitation he pulls off the Master’s shirt and pants, too. Normally something like this would warrant some sort of flirtation from his Master, but instead he just flops over on his bedsheets. That, more than anything else, is how Luxu knows he must feel like shit.

 

Luxu nudges the Master’s side. “Please move a little. I have to make down the bed.”

 

“Why? If I lie on the sheets directly we’ll have to wash them.”

 

“We’ll have to wash them anyway. And you’re cold, aren’t you?”

 

“Yep, and if I get under the sheets I’ll be hot. Just leave me to wallow in my own misery.”

 

Luxu sighs and does just that, gathering up the Master’s clothes and leaving the room with them and the vomit bucket. He comes back after he’s dumped the clothes in the laundry room, thrown out the gloves, and cleaned the bucket. After setting it down at the Master’s bedside, he leaves again and returns with water and a package of crackers.

 

The Master glares at the crackers like they’re going to be the start of the keyblade war. “You know I can’t eat anything right now.”

 

“You might get hungry later.” Luxu sets the package down on the nightstand. “For now, could you just try to drink something?”

 

The Master coughs. It sounds guttural, painful like it’s straining his throat, and that’s probably because it is. Luxu’s heart aches.

 

He sits on the side of the bed, reaching out a hand to pet through his Master’s tangled hair. “Please,” he says, “it’ll help your throat.”

 

“But I’ll just throw it up again!” The Master whines. He can be such a child sometimes. Luxu almost feels like more of a caretaker than a -

 

What is he to the Master, exactly? A boyfriend? Maybe something more than that. Like a husband. Or a soulmate.

 

Luxu rubs the back of the Master’s neck in a way he hopes will be soothing. “Please, try? For me?”

 

The Master shakes his head and pushes up on his elbows. “Okay, fine. Hand over the poison, my loyal apprentice.”

 

Luxu holds the glass as the Master drinks, then holds his hair as he vomits again. They stay like that for the rest of the day and then the night, Luxu gently stroking the Master’s hair as he shivers and coughs.

 

In a few days, the Master is better and Luxu is sick, and their roles reverse.

 

-

 

This new vessel has a certain look to it - like the kind of guy who'd slide up next to you at a bar and give you a leery smile as he offers to buy you a drink. Like a salesman selling a product he knows is fucked. It definitely comes in handy when Braig approaches Xehanort. He made sure years ago that the old coot was the one to inherit No Name, and now he's gotta make sure he does the right thing with it.

 

It isn't difficult to pretend to covet No Name. That's mostly because he _does_ covet it - he wants to gaze into that eye with reverence and love and anger just like he did in the old days. Xehanort buys his gambit and the next thing Braig knows, he's lost his eye and his heart and become someone else.

 

It _is_ difficult to pretend to be shocked. He's suffered too much for anything to really hurt anymore.

 

-

 

“Find something interesting, Luxu?”

 

He perks up at the sound of the Master’s voice, although he has to stifle a laugh when he looks at him. They look utterly ridiculous right now, Luxu thinks; they had to get rid of their black coats for this visit, since they’d either die of heat stroke or be run out of town by suspicious locals if they’d worn them. The Master is wearing a pink floral button up with the top few buttons undone and garish orange pants. He looks like the touristy gift shop in town threw up all over him. Luxu went for something more muted, but the Master insisted he wear a stupid looking flowery shirt too, so they’d match.

 

The ocean laps at the beach just feet away from where Luxu is standing. He’s holding a star shaped fruit, which is just slightly green at the tips, probably meaning it’s still underripe. He’d heard a legend about this fruit while in town. Apparently, if two people share one, they will be locked in each other’s lives forever. The legend reminds him of the story about the girl and the tree sap. That idea had been a stretch - this one is too, but only a by a little bit. If there’s even a slight possibility that this fruit can ensure that he and the Master will meet again one day, then he wants to try it.

 

He beckons the Master over, and they sit on one of the fruit trees that’s lying low to the ground. It must have been hit by something when it was small; all the other trees reach up to the sky, but this one stretches out towards the ocean, towards the other worlds which lie just across the water. He and the Master had taken a boat out to visit these islands. Not long from now, it’ll be impossible to reach this world by boat or any other worldly method of transportation.

 

“So, you gonna tell me what that is?” the Master asks. Luxu thinks the Master already knows exactly what it is, only because he can’t imagine there’s something that the Master doesn’t know.

 

“Some people in town told me about this fruit,” Luxu says. His heart is beating quickly. He doesn’t think the Master will refuse his request, but what if he does? What will he do then? “Apparently, if two people share it, they’ll be part of each other’s lives forever.”

 

“Really? That’s awfully romantic,” the Master says. Luxu can’t read his tone or expression. “But do you really think a fruit could change two people’s destinies?”

 

“I don’t know,” Luxu says, “but I think… it’s worth a try, isn’t it?” His voice cracks a little as he asks the question. He can’t really place the reason for the tears welling up in his eyes, or why he’s gripping the fruit so tightly it’s getting mushy, but he thinks it’s because this is probably the last time they’ll do this. This is the last time the Master will take him to out to show him the beauty of their world, the last moment they’ll have to themselves. The Master didn’t say so, but Luxu can somehow tell.

 

The Master gently takes the fruit out of Luxu’s hands. His heart thuds and he waits nervously to see if the Master will throw it away. Instead he breaks off one of the arms, holds it out to Luxu, and says “eat up.”

 

Luxu isn’t embarrassed when he takes a bite out of the piece. The Master hasn’t made him feel embarrassed in a long time. He’s used to their relationship, used to the affection and longing and love. But just because he’s used to it doesn’t mean it doesn’t affect him anymore. When he tears off another of the fruit’s arms and holds it out to the Master, when he watches as the Master takes a bite, watches as the juice dribbles down his chin, watches as he licks his lips - something in his heart just breaks. Then he’s crying, and the Master is pulling him close. The remains of the mangled fruit fall onto the sand beneath them, forgotten.

 

“It’s okay, Luxu,” he murmurs. “You’ll be fine. I already know you’ve done well, you’re gonna be fantastic at your role.”

 

“That’s not the problem and you know it,” Luxu says through sobs. “When will you come back?”

 

“Now, now, you know I can’t tell you that,” the Master says. “It won’t be long, though. I promise.”

 

Luxu shakes his head against the Master’s chest. They’ve slipped back in sync and he knows he’s lying.

 

-

 

Luxu brushes his fingers over his empty eye socket. The damn thing has been gone for ages now, it seems, but it never stops striking him every time he takes off his eyepatch. It’s really gone - Luxu almost thinks it’s funny, since he and the Master match now. But the things that he thinks are funny are also the things that he thinks are sad, and Luxu wants to cry but he’s pretty sure he’s forgotten how to over the past few hundred years.

 

He doesn’t even remember how long it’s been. He used to keep track of the years, the months and days and minutes since the Master left him behind, but he’s beyond caring now. There’s still love somewhere in his twisted heart but it’s gotten all caught up in the bitterness of an eternity spent alone.

 

Something fundamental about who he is and how he thinks and what he’s doing has changed. The old Luxu would probably be horrified.

 

But the new Luxu, he…

  


-

 

“Master, you bastard,” Luxu says under his breath. He doesn’t really mean it, but there’s something about saying it that’s therapeutic. He knows that at some point in the past the Master had seen this, maybe in a vision or a dream or just a thought in the back of his mind. He hopes it hurt him. He hopes every single cruel thing he’s said while looking right into No Name’s gazing eye felt like needles being stabbed into the Master’s heart.

 

A few dozen years ago, he’d think that hoping for such a thing would be ridiculous. Firstly because he would never have wanted to hurt the Master. Secondly because _of course_ Luxu’s words could affect him; they’re in love. The Master hangs off of Luxu’s every word, follows his every move, savors his every touch. Just like Luxu does for him. They’re in sync, except when they’re not. They can bend each others’ unbendable hearts. They’re something more than lovers or boyfriends or even husbands - soulmates.

 

He was a fool. If the Master really loved him he wouldn’t have left. He’d have stayed right by Luxu’s side, right until the bitter end. He wouldn’t have left him to face this cold destiny all alone.

 

He’d been right. The fruit hadn’t been enough to change their destinies.

 

Luxu doesn’t like reminiscing about the past anymore. He used to like lying awake in bed, watching his memories on repeat. He liked to remember the Master’s every expression, the tone of his voice, the movement of his hands as he spoke. Now Luxu hates to remember. He can’t think about any time the Master touched him without imagining that there was some sort of manipulation in that touch. He can’t think of anything the Master ever said without racking his brain to figure out what his underlying motive was. Whether the Master loved him or not doesn’t matter anymore. Luxu will never believe in love again.

 

He thinks this as he stares down at the girl kneeling before him, exhausted and bleeding. Her keyblade is embedded in the ground in front of her. Her grip on it is the only thing keeping her from falling.

 

“Come on, get up. You think you can become a master if you can’t even handle this?” Luxu says. The words lack real malice but they have the desired effect on his apprentice. The kid jumps back to her feet, ignoring the bleeding calluses on her hands and the shaking in her legs, and she charges Luxu again.

 

The air around them surges as they clash blades. Something breaks as Luxu lands a hit on the girl’s side - a rib, maybe - but it’s background noise. This fight isn’t as violent as it could be. Luxu could make it worse. That would probably be a bad idea, though, since he doesn’t want to break this one so soon. He moves to step back.

 

She growls and lunges forward again. Luxu indulges her and slides back into a defensive stance.

 

He’s a brutal teacher. But he needs to be. This girl will be - what number was he on again - the seventh, he thinks, that he’s trained to wield No Name. The others all failed somewhere along the way. They had complained that he was too tough and transferred to the other masters’ classes. Luxu has fewer students than the rest of them, and the headmaster reprimands him for his cruelty, but it doesn’t matter. He won’t be driven away, no matter how mean he is to the students. They all covet No Name’s power, and if Luxu leaves it means No Name will, too. None of them want that to happen, which is good. Luxu can’t leave. The line of succession must continue.

 

Luxu must complete his role. If he doesn’t, he won’t see the Master ever again. And he wants to, if only to ask him face to face what the hell is wrong with him.

 

The girl actually manages to strike a hit. She grins wildly. Luxu grins back. Finally, someone with potential. He desperately wants her to be the Dark Master, but he knows in his heart that she isn’t. The Master lied when he said he’d be back soon, and the reason he lied was because he knew he’d be gone long enough for Luxu to break. And Luxu hasn’t broken. Not yet.

 

He wonders how long it’ll take for his heart to snap, and laughs.

 

-

 

…he looks up at the Master without expression. They’re standing among the graves, hot desert wind kicking sand into their faces, sun beating down unforgivingly. Luxu can feel the sweat start to run down his face, but his body is frozen. The Master is fluid like water, and he easily opens his arms, like he’s waiting for an embrace.

 

There are no thoughts or memories or feelings left in Luxu’s head. This is all too familiar and all too foreign at the same time. He can’t react. Can’t blink. All he can do is stare as the Master holds out his arms and asks for forgiveness.

 

Whether he’s asking out of love or for some more self-serving reason Luxu can’t tell.

 

The Master’s arms fall. He seems disappointed. “Luxu,” he says, his voice somehow flat and sad at the same time.

 

Luxu’s heart beats.


End file.
